Cords and Fleece

  “What about the goody bags?” That’s Michael. He’s disappointed because I didn’t mention my goody bag debacle in The Big 5.0 . All I can say it that we all know I don’t have a good history with goody bags, so what happened is probably just bad karma for dissing them in the past . On Monday, Elizabeth celebrated her birthday at school. They do a nice job for birthdays. Elizabeth made a list of 8 friends to sit with her at the festive birthday table. One by one Elizabeth called out the names of her friends and one by one they ran up to her, a la The Price is Right, hugged her, and ran to the table. Eventually, all the children were seated and the singing and cupcake-eating ensued. (I won’t go into how awful it must be for the kids who never get picked. Let’s just say I feel their pain...) After eating, Elizabeth called out each child’s name (every kid in the class -- not just the privileged eight) and handed them their goody bags. There was more hugging and the occasional peck on th...

Thanks, Marc and Kel, for throwing me a party! No, wait... it wasn’t just a party -- it was a birthday party. And it wasn’t for me, it was for their kids. Crazy! Why did I think it was for me? Oh, yes -- because Marc and Kellie know how to throw a toddler’s birthday party with their parents in mind! And what a difference it makes. Usually I dread these little parties. Mostly, they involve parents watching their kids do stuff -- play with toys, go down mini slides, break things. But I knew this party would be different the moment I opened the cooler for a drink. Inside were cold cans of beer that said, Parents -- this party is for you, too. So said the freshly grilled hot dogs, brats, and pasta salad. Then, when I learned I was allowed inside the bounce house, well... let the good times roll! Brainstorm Alert: Why not invent a gym for grown-ups with bounce-houses, giant slides and jungle gyms? I haven’t exercised so much or so well in a very long time. Bouncing is hard work, but who...

Turns out, boys are pretty much the same at age 4 as they are at 24. Alone, they’re perfect gentlemen. They wait patiently. They’re polite. They allow girls to play, free from harassment. But add another boy to the mix and together they turn into mischievous devils that torture the cat and cause other children to cry. Welcome to Elizabeth’s fourth birthday! For the big event, Elizabeth requested to wear her hair down so she could adorn her birthday hat. (”I can’t wear my birthday hat over pigtails!” True enough.) To my surprise, she wore her hat all day and to bed that night. I soon learned that she wasn’t simply wearing a paper hat with her name on it. She was wearing a crown of entitlement. Elizabeth took full emotional advantage of her birthday; pouting, throwing herself onto the couch in despair, running from the room. “It’s my birthday and I’ll cry if I want to” is more about getting one’s rights (above and beyond one’s normal rights, mind you) than being wronged. I observed a gr...

I wasn’t sure what to title this entry. I had a few ideas: Party Bags: A Lot of Cheap Crap Little Bags O’ Death Party Bags... Why? Ultimately, I’m happy with what I chose because it’s true and gets right to the point. I hate party bags. This (upper right) is what my 3 (almost 4) year-old received in a party bag today from a kid in her class. What is it? A little capsule of yummy blue sprinkles? Some random tube-thing? A horse pill? What? In its compressed state, it’s about the size of a large Motrin. It’s pleasantly-colored and easy to swallow. Mmmm. Turns out it’s this: Yikes! Like I don’t have ENOUGH to worry about each day! I asked three parents what they thought it was and each of them thought it was candy -- as if medicinal-shaped candies aren’t disturbing enough. But it wasn’t candy. It was an expandable sponge toy. You’re supposed to put them in water -- not your kid’s mouth. Which begs the question: What would a parent be thinking to put this, without explanation, into a toddl...